


Twilight

by DecemberBanana



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Bathrooms, Dealing With Daily Stress, Dialogue Heavy, Dirty Jokes, Food Processors, Humor, Insane Len, M/M, Nursery Rhyme References, Poltergeists, Sleep Deprivation, Stressful Working Places
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8941288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecemberBanana/pseuds/DecemberBanana
Summary: Because a day in a man’s life, according to a certain poltergeist, must always start in the bathroom.
It starts when Dell wakes up at 4 A.M in the morning...





	1. 4 A.M.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extended (and uncensored) version of an English essay I wrote in school last century. (The version submitted ended at 7.30 P.M.) :3
> 
> And in case you’re wondering about the title, it’s simply a derivative of the French word "toilette". (“Twah-lehht”.) Literally it means toilet. It just becomes "twilight" when a non-native (such as moi) tries to say it the fancy French way.

4 A.M.

Dell stumbled down the stairs with the inexorable urge to pee, and fell down the last five steps on his face.

For some reason, he just couldn’t sleep that night. He wasn’t very fond of the dark, though he’d NEVER admit it to anyone – not even Granny knew – but he couldn’t fight nature nor do something ridiculous like relieve himself out the window, so he’d eventually been forced to get out of bed and hurtle to the bathroom downstairs. He’d obviously been watching too many horror movies.

The light was on.

He didn’t even stop to think why or consider knocking on the door – he just flung it open, squeezing himself into the bright space.

There was someone inside already. Some _thing_.

‘ _Shit_ …’

Len, the creature of his nightmares.

The thing’s back was turned. Slowly, the poltergeist swivelled his head around to smile at Dell, his huge eyes like owls’. He was perched eerily atop the toilet tank, twiddling with the flush lever.

‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ Len giggled in his whimsical tone; he loudly flushed the bowl for emphasis. ‘Thunder away, the toilet’s all yours…’

Dell vigorously shook his head, shaking off his momentary stupefaction.

‘Get out! I need to go. _Seriously._ ’

‘Mmm, baby… Just pretend there’s no one here…’

Dell glared at him suspiciously. Len seemingly ignored him and went on poking the toilet flush around, humming an off-key tune to himself. Cursing under his breath, Dell hobbled in. Emergencies called for extreme measures.

Len’s owl eyes followed his progress, blank and glassy. Maybe it was a play of the shadows – the way white lightbulbs glowed in ungodly hours of the morning – but there seemed to be bold black frames on his already huge eyes, making them stand out even more with an added exoticness; it didn’t look too unlike his old Granny’s clotted-up eyeliner. Dell grimaced and tried his best not to take notice of the poltergeist on top of his toilet.

His drab, crumpled sweatpants pooled on the floor.

Len wasn’t a girl. He was _not_ a girl… Damn hell he looked like one.

He just concentrated on aiming straight, staring down into the toilet bowl.

The poltergeist was giggling.

‘ _I’m a little teapot, short and stout_ ~’

Dell closed his eyes.

Len crossed his legs coyly. ‘ _– Here is my handle, here is my spout. When I get all steamed up, hear me –’_

‘SHUT UP!’ Dell howled.

Len flushed the toilet, with a giggle and a hiccup. ‘Are you done yet?’

‘Just let me finish in peace, will you!?’

‘No seriously, for how _long_ do you usually pee on average?’

‘…’

‘Can I flush the bowl yet?’

‘…Be my guest. You’re doing it anyway.’

‘By the way, concerning that water bill last month –’

‘ _Yes I’m done_ now goodbye, get outta my bathroom!’

 


	2. 5 A.M.

5 A.M.                                                                                                

_Tick, tick, tick…_

The clocks in the bedroom chattered ceaselessly, from the wall, from the bedside, from inside his skull. Dell mashed his pillow over his head to shut them out, to which they enthusiastically ticked louder. _Tick, tickety tackety tock_ ; all in cacophony as they broke out of sync and ticked as they liked.

_Bong, bong, bongg!_

...

That’d be the old grandfather clock downstairs.

Since when had it started moving again? He thought he’d made sure it would never trouble him again – it was too ridiculously big for an average house – but there it went again; _bong, bong_ , five fifteen! It kept on bonging as if determined to wake him.

Dell fetched his earplugs and pumped up the pillow around his head, clamping it firmly over his ears. He was determined _not_ to wake up now, not if the house collapsed on his head. Those stupid clocks would see.

Downstairs, Len sat on the sofa in the living room, lazily waving a conductor’s baton.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... is going to be one long day. xx


End file.
